For nine days I have been slowly working on edits for my next Ellora's Cave erotic romance, Drive-in.
I look forward to edits because I know nothing gets published without them. I also dread edits because they remind me how far I've come (not far enough) and how far I have yet to go (way far). My mistakes make me feel stupid. The more edits I plow through, the worse the manuscript looks, covered in red like it's bleeding from a major artery and yellow as if the gaping wounds are infected. Words are crossed out and rearranged like one of those word puzzles in the Sunday paper. The kind of puzzle I can't solve.
For some reason, Drive-in edits have hit me hardest. I'm not even 2/3 through after nine days, and I've left the really gnarly edits for last. I can blame it on my work schedule or the recent death of a beloved pet. I've had computer woes and outside commitments. Don't even get me started on my home life. I will get through these edits, or die trying. But not today. And probably not tomorrow. The next day isn't looking good either. But someday soon.
Maybe if I had a book cover for inspiration. Hint hint.